


A knife for each sin

by horrorriz



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Blood and Violence, Ed is retreating into fear, Gen, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Isabella is an abuser, Knives, Murder, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 13:53:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17582129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horrorriz/pseuds/horrorriz
Summary: After having seen Ed getting repeatedly hurt by Isabella, Oswald decided that it was long gone one too many.So when opportunity strikes, he decided to do something about it.





	A knife for each sin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [verovex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verovex/gifts).



> !!TRIGGER WARNING!!  
> Graphic description of abuse, violence and blood.  
> If you have been abused or suffers from triggers for it, I strongly advice you to avoid this fic.
> 
> This was a way of channeling anger towards the too many people left in the world who's only purpose seem to be hurting others.

**A stab into your heart is the punishment you deserve.**

 

When Oswald first found out about Isabella, his heart had shattered. Fallen onto the floor before him right there as Ed had uttered the words;  _“I’m in love!” ._  Too many pieces to ever attempt to pick them back up and mend them together.

His second thought had been to just kill her, get rid of the competition and regain the peaceful days he and Ed had shared before her.

But he saw the smiles on Ed, how he danced around the halls of the manor, singing and grabbed Oswald to kiss his cheek as he passed by… Never had Oswald seen him so alive, so joyful.

At first.

 

Step by step, the smiles were replaced with an uneasy habit of biting his lips. The dancing and singing with pulling his shoulders up as if to shield himself. Head twitching in an obsessive skittish manner, jumping at every sudden movement like a scared cat.

 

Then he noticed the bruises.

Flares of purple and yellow, old and new marks covering each other and mixing into a vivid pattern across his delicate pale skin.

Ed had laughed nervously and said the worst and most used lie in the history of the abused. _“Silly me fell down the stairs, I’m so clumsy!”_

 

When the cuts started appearing, Oswald went to see her. He screamed into her well practiced act of despair that if she ever touched Edward again, he would have her gutted and hung from a lamp post for everyone in Gotham to see the true colors of the abuser she really was.

Until the next day he came back home to find Ed sobbing in his bedroom. And when Oswald had opened the door to check on him, threw himself around the crime lord’s ankles, begging him not to say such horrible things to Isabella. That she had a good heart, he needed to forgive her, forgive him. As it was Ed fault, it was he who had upset her again. And in turn upset Oswald.

He was a sniveling, shuddering mess unlike anything Oswald had ever witnessed. Oswald realized that Isabella had hurt Ed for the talk he had with her.

 

After that, he left her be. For now.

Fear of hurting Ed further… He needed to realize the nature of her toxic ways on his own. So that he could truly forgive Oswald for the day he had to kill her for all the sins she had committed towards his best friend.

 

So when he entered his favorite knife shop with his collection of knives to be sharpened, -something he preferred to do personally. To find _her_ there, looking over a pocket like it was a piece of jewelry, the smirk that spread across her lips as she tested it in the air…

 

Something was ignited inside Oswald.

 

Every bruise, every cut and tears shed. All the times Ed would whimper and withdraw for what he feared might have been another hit. For all the times she hurt his Edward, -how he was still suffering, she had to pay.

His gaze was looking livid, white hot anger burning him up from within a place he didn’t think he had inside him. Of all the times his rage had flared up, nothing could overpower this, for the exception if she had killed him.

Lucky for her, she had the fortune of not having gone that far. If he had allowed her to leave with that knife, so carefully selected to keep hidden… Suddenly Oswald was imagining how she would hold it against Ed’s throat, his eyes glossy with fear, tears streaming down as he begged her no. Like a frightened child unaware of the wrongs that had caused the punishment they did not deserve. How she would use a swift movement to cut his arteries, end his life there while snickering that disgusting laughter of hers.

_No._

He wouldn’t give her the chance, no more. He wouldn’t let her hurt Edward, ever again!

 

The gasp as he shoved the first knife into her gut, -she needed to suffer before she died, like Ed had for much too long, was as satisfying as her eyes going big and the blood spreading from the wound, rapidly soaking her dress in scarlet.

The second knife he shoved into her side, between the ribs, directly into her liver. The way the blade scraped against the bones on the way in got to hurt bad. Good, that was the intention.

The third he stabbed into the middle of her chest, having to put all his strength into the blow, to hear the bones crack under his hand. This was where he had to catch her as she began to lose balance, too busy coughing, choking on her own blood as he had most likely cut a hole into her windpipe.

Which led him to speed things up with the fourth and last knife. Putting extra power as he pushed it up under her ribs, directly punctuating her heart. He was elbow deep into her upper torso and her blood had since long colored and sadly ruined his suit. A pity, it was one of his favorites. Anything for Ed, he thought next as he twisted the knife further into her heart and watched the light go out of her eyes.

 

He let his grip go, letting her fall lifeless to the floor, staining the checkered floor with a wonderful hue of red. Oswald picked a few strands of his hair back in place, using the growing pool of blood on the floor as a mirror.

Then straightened his back, slammed a roll of cash onto the counter and casually nodded towards the body.

“I’m here to have them sharpened.” He glanced towards the many knives still sticking out of the corpse of Isabella.


End file.
